Perfect

A sleeping baby. Image source.

He comes out with a smushed face and a full head of black hair.
He cries.
And he is perfect.

So sleepy, he can't stay awake to eat.
I breastfeed him and rub the back of his head.
And he is perfect.

He learns how to open his eyes and look at people.
He laughs. He cries.
He poops, and then smiles like it's the best thing ever.
And he is perfect.

He stops in the middle of breastfeeding to look up at me and smile.
And he is perfect.

I wake up in the night and listen to his breathing.
And he is perfect.

He amuses himself making gurgling sounds and spitting.
He grabs everything with his little hands, puts everything in his mouth.
And he is perfect.

He cries in his carseat, until he falls asleep.
And he is perfect.

He rolls over.
He gets his first tooth.
He outgrows his clothes.
And he is perfect.

He poops all over his clothes.
He poops all over my clothes.
He poops all over his clothes and my clothes in the middle of a 12-hour international flight.
And he is perfect.

He opens his mouth to eat his baby food.
He grabs the spoon and won't let go.
He smears it all over his face.
And he is perfect.

He can sit now.
He sits in his playpen and waves his toys around.
He drools on his books.
And he is perfect.

He screeches happily while watching us eat dinner.
He sits in his stroller and bounces.
And he is perfect.

I hold him, and he clings to me like a baby monkey.
Sometimes I think I hear him say "ma."
And he is perfect.

He wakes up way too early and doesn't want to go back to sleep.
He lays in our bed and kicks us.
And he is perfect.

Every time I look at my son, he's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

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Welcome Baby Square Root!